


Worth the Wait

by awabubbles



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam Winchester, Established Relationship, M/M, Nostalgia, Porn with Feelings, Top Dean Winchester, Top Dean Winchester/Bottom Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-17 21:42:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16982334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awabubbles/pseuds/awabubbles
Summary: Late season wincest. Sam reflects on why it took so long to get here.





	Worth the Wait

Dean moves inside of Sam, a steady rhythm, familiar. Sam tightens the legs he has wrapped around his brother’s torso. Dean grunts, moves faster. He holds the headboard to steady himself; it creaks. 

“Like my back,” Dean jokes, after, winces when he says it. He tries to cover up his wounded vanity with a smile but it highlights the wrinkles around his eyes. Dean’s hair is grayer now, his stomach hangs a little looser and he can’t eat like he used to. He pretends not to care but Sam still walks in on his brother, fussing, pulling back the skin from his eyes or the lines around his mouth. But what Dean wants to fix, Sam wants to celebrate. Aging. Hunters rarely get to, their violent dangerous lives usually cut down in their youth. Everyone else they know is dead but Sam and Dean have survived. Against the odds, they’ve grown old (well old-er) together. Sam knows what a gift that is, a miracle, even.

Dean breathes into his neck, hot and heavy. Sam melts with pleasure as they move together, fuse together. They’ve always been like this, Sam thinks, ever since they were children, intimately attuned to the other, walking in sync, practically talking in sync. Maybe it was inevitable that they would end up like this, in a bed, all barriers removed, skin-to-skin as if pressing hard enough would finally collapse them into one. 

Sam is ashamed to admit, he'd resisted this, once. 

“Sammy,” Dean sighs, a childhood pet name. Sam touches his brother’s face, draws his thumb over those wrinkles Dean hates. It would have made more sense to do this when they were younger, fresher. Youth, experimentation, hormones - they had plenty of excuses, but all of them had terrified Sam. He wanted out from under his father’s thumb, a prison made from John’s long, torturous shadow. Admitting he loved his brother felt like a trap. Falling into his brother’s arms, melting into his kiss; Sam would have never left. 

Not that he stayed away for long. 

Thick gun-calloused hands roll him over. Sam lifts himself on to his knees, sticks his ass in the air and moans softly as Dean enters from behind. His brother plants long, languid kisses along Sam’s back. They move together again, effortlessly in sync. 

Even when John was gone, Sam still resisted. Sure every hunt would be his last, he ignored the want until it was a balled-up fist punching his guts. Sam pushed Dean away because he still hoped.

He’s not sure when it happened, after losing soul, or maybe after the trials, but somewhere along the way Sam looked up from a book and realized this was his life. And he still hoped. It hadn’t been beaten out of him, not while he still had breathe in his body. But instead of an escape from his family, Sam hoped to bring Dean with him. Peace, safety, happiness: they would find it one day, together. That was the day he had kissed his brother, tore off Dean’s clothes and begged for his cock. To Sam’s surprise, Dean didn’t hesitate, didn’t even blink. All this time, Dean had been waiting for him. Not always patient, not always kind, but a permanent fixture in Sam’s life when everyone else was gone. So they fucked, right there on the library table (ruining an ancient book in the process, whoops). It was a consummation of longing, and a promise for the future: in it together, forever. 

Forever, with his brother. The thought fills Sam with warmth, just as Dean fills his belly with come. 

“Hnngh.” Dean grunts, pulls out of him and drops onto the mattress beside him. Sam aches. Already, he misses Dean inside of him, the pressure and security of Dean holding him down. But his brother’s smile is careless and warm, it eases Sam’s greed.

Dean reaches over his head, pressing the headboard till it creaks. “Like my back,” he jokes, conjuring all of his wrinkles with a grin. Dean is beautiful like this, wizened and worn, alive, and in bed beside him. 

Sam smiles back. Time had worn them down in just the right spots, cut them until they finally fit together, seamless. Even if it took them years to get it right, it was well worth the wait. 


End file.
